


Cherry Bomb

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Series: Porn Star AU [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biker Connor, Creampie, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mechanic Hank, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Star AU, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Roleplay, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: Connor and Hank do a little roleplaying in a garage one sunny afternoon.





	Cherry Bomb

The first thing that catches Connor’s eye as he enters the garage is the immaculate cherry red 1967 Pontiac GTO parked in the centre of the oil stained space. Sunlight from the open shutters reflecting off its polished to perfection paintwork.

He hurries over to it, boots clicking on the cement floor.

“Wow, she’s just... Wow.”

“I know,” North says, sighing a little dreamily, “your man has good taste.”

Connor circles the car inspecting it gleefully. “Hank picked her?”

“Yup. No doubt he thought you’d like her.”

Connor beams, heart lifting, “she’s beautiful.”

“A dream.” North looks at the car as though she wishes she could drive it away and keep it for herself at the end of the day. She looks back to Connor with a reassuring smile. “Markus will bring the bike around soon. It’s just like we practiced okay.”

Connor pauses by the vehicle's left wing mirror, fingers dancing across the shiny silver top of it nervously. He’d fallen a couple of times in rehearsal, the bike scares him a little.

The only reason he agreed to drive it in is so that he can see the look on Hank’s face when he arrives on the back of the purring beast between his thighs, dressed in tight leather.

The thought of Hank’s hungry gaze roaming over him makes him shiver.

But first he has to drive the fricking thing. He worries that if he falls it might spoil the mood.

“Right,” he says, a touch too gloomy for North’s liking.

“Hey, don’t look so nervous, you got the hang of it in the end. You’ll be fine.” She gives him another reassuring smile and then looks at her watch. She sighs, cheeks puffing out for a moment. “We should probably get you out to the trailer and get you suited up. Pretty up that already pretty face.”

Connor brightens at that. He’s seen the outfit and Simon will do a great job with his makeup and hair as usual. Aside from the actual fucking this is one of his favourite parts. Seeing his outfit come together.

He heads out to the trailer, summer sun beating down from above as he makes his way across the asphalt. There are two trailers parked neatly side by side, one for Connor and one for Hank.

Hank who hasn’t arrived yet.

North ushers him up the steps and into the trailer and Simon whisks him away from her and into a chair. An hour later and his face is all made up, lips pink and eyes smoky. Simon whines as he usually does about having to cover up all of Connor’s smaller freckles and how cute they are.

Connor consoles Simon about his freckles and Simon cheers enough to bring him his costume. A leather one piece suit with electric blue detailing along the seams and a pair of gloves and wedge heeled matching boots. Connor takes them in his hands and shivers with excitement.

Pulling them on he turns this way and that in front of a full length mirror. Admiring the way the soft leather clings to his body.

He spends another 10 minutes in the chair as Simon finishes styling his hair. One lock refusing to lay flat as usual. It’s sort of become trademark at this point.

North returns just as Simon is finishing up.

“Hank's all set. Are we ready?”

“All done,” Simon says, smiling and gently tweaking Connor’s wayward cowlick.

Walking across the asphalt, helmet tucked under one arm Connor feels his excitement recede as he spots the bike parked by the side of the building, a red and black Harley Davidson Roadster.

All he has to do is ride it into the garage and park it near the Pontiac.

North squeezes his arm breaking him from his thoughts.

“Hey, no worrying. You’ll be fine.”

Connor nods.

They bring the bike out into the lot a little more and North takes a few shots of him posing with it for social media. Then it’s time for him to ride.

He swings his leg over the bike and starts her up. She roars to life with a shudder under him. He realises that Hank must have heard the engine and suddenly the bike doesn’t seem so scary.

He puts on his helmet and flips up the kickstand, revving the engine a couple of times before urging the bike forward. North waves and he takes off. He laps the parking lot once before slowing and bringing the bike around to where the shutters are open.

He guides her smoothly inside the cool of the garage and spots Hank, pretending to buff the perfect surface of the Pontiac.

Red lights blink on the three cameras positioned behind Hank. Like always he pretends they aren’t there. He’s just a nobody on his way to nowhere, stopping in to get his bike checked.

He flips out the kickstand and dismounts with as much grace as he can muster, removing his helmet and fluffing his hair gently with gloved fingers.

Hank stares, the movements of his hand holding the cloth slowing. It could be genuine, Hank’s never seen him in something like this before.

Connor cocks his hip out to the left and holds the helmet against it. Hank’s tongue traces his bottom lip and his eyes roam over Connor’s sleek leather clad form. Connor’s seen that look a hundred times before. Genuine. It bolsters his confidence.

Hank is in blue coveralls, a white t-shirt poking out from underneath. There are oil stains smeared on the material. His hair is tied back into a messy bun that Connor can’t wait to undo. He looks the real deal.

Hank steps away from the car and closer to Connor. The sunlight streaming through the shutters illuminates him sharply as he steps out of the shadows.

Connor feels as though he can pick out every shade of winter blue in his eyes. His heart swells and he smiles, warm and affectionate.

“What can I do you for?” Hank asks, his own smile is small and amused, his eyes sparkling.

“I was taking my bike for a spin and uh, it started making these groaning sounds.” Connor’s right hand brushes the leather of the seat, his eyelashes flutter, body language loose and open. “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking a look.”

“Sure, no problem”

“Thanks...” he takes a look at the name badge on Hank’s chest. “Hank.”

“You’re welcome...?”

“Connor.”

Hank gives him a warm smile and Connor gives him a devilish one in return, walking over to the Pontiac with a sway in his hips. He knows the leather frames his ass perfectly and he half expects Hank to break character to give him a cheeky slap. But he doesn’t. He gives Connor a subtle once over and crouches to "inspect” the bike. Connor notices the tips of his ears have reddened and he allows himself a small victory grin.

When Hank glances up at him Connor holds eye contact as he takes the tip of his left glove, the material on his index finger, between his teeth, pulling his hand free.

Hank swallows visibly and Connor takes the glove from his mouth with a wink.

Hank turns back to the bike. It takes a moment for Connor to realise he is genuinely giving it a once over. Looks like Connor isn’t the only thing in this garage Hank isn’t able to resist. Connor smiles fondly and touches the car with his bare hand before removing the other glove.

“She’s stunning,” he says, going slightly off script. He can almost hear North eyeroll behind the cameras. Usually they like to ad lib but the scene always works out and she hasn’t had any complaints so far.

Hank glances up from his work and gives him another once over, this time it’s obvious, drawn out, Connor feels as though Hank could peel off his suit with his gaze only. He preens under it, body turning this way and that ever so slightly.

“It’s not the only stunning thing in this garage today it seems,” Hank says. His voice is soft and low, hungry. Connor shivers and blushes staining his skin a pretty pink.

Hank makes an attempt to stay in character at least.

“Ah, sorry, that was a little too forward-“

“No it’s fine. I’m glad I ran into you Hank. You seem, good with your hands.” Connor's eyes are half mast, his body never still for a moment, he leans against the car.

Hank drops the wrench he'd picked up earlier and Connor grins. Coaxing genuine reactions from Hank is always fun.

Connor sets his gloves down on the hood of the Pontiac near the windshield and watches Hank tinker.

Hank finishes his tinkering and straightens, grabbing a cloth from a nearby workbench, Connor following him.

Hank cleans his hands with a few wet wipes and Connor waits for him to finish before placing the helmet on the bench and making a show of patting himself down and pouting.

“Would you look at that. I went and forgot my wallet. And after you were kind enough to do me a favour and put my bike first.” Connor taps his lip in imitation of thought, and Hank’s eyes are drawn to the motion.

Connor leans slightly into Hank’s space, eyes focussing on his lips and then flicking up to hold Hank’s gaze. “I think we can work out another form of payment. What do you say?”

Hank’s eyes sparkle. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

Connor smiles, a hand coming up to tug the zip on his suit. Slowly he drags it down and the leather smoothly peels apart to reveal the pale skin of his chest.

Hank raises a hand and instead of touching skin, his fingers brush against the pendant resting against Connor’s breastbone.

“Pretty,” Hank says, his voice is thoughtful. Hopeful. Like he hopes Connor will say so too even though Hank knows how dear he holds this particular present.

“Yes. It's special to me, as is the person who gave it to me.” Their eyes meet and Connor smiles. Soft and sweet. “You kind of remind me of him.” He drags the zip down past his navel. “Kind eyes. Nice smile. Careful hands. Are you gonna handle me with care Hank?”

Hank’s fingers ghost the path of the zip, brushing Connor's skin lightly making the muscles in his stomach twitch. Connor lets out a soft sound and Hank steps close.

“That’s a promise.”

Connor’s fingers scratch through Hank’s beard and he leans up to kiss him, pressing his bared narrow chest against Hank’s overall-clad broad one. The scratch of the material on his nipples is nice and he rubs against Hank with enthusiasm.

Hank takes notice, because of course he does. He knows Connor’s body better than Connor does at this point. Suddenly there’s a hand in Connor's hair and another at his chest, a calloused thumb rubbing insistently at a nipple.

Connor whines and threads his fingers into Hank’s hair, knocking the tie loose and allowing Hank’s hair to tumble about his face. That face how he loves that face.

The tie hits the ground and remains forgotten.

Hank’s hand trails from Connor's chest and dips low, palm pressing over Connor’s growing covered erection which Hank rubs through the leather. Connor clings to him, fingers curling into the blue of his coveralls as he moans softly against Hank's lips.

“Do you often fuck to pay your bills?” Hank asks, voice a soft amused rumble that makes Connor give a full body shiver.

“Only when it suits me to do so,” Connor replies with a cocky smile. He gently bites Hank’s lip intensifying the energy of the moment.

Hank’s hand dips inside the suit and the feel of warm skin on skin makes Connor whimper.

“Oh yes.”

Hank strokes him in steady thorough pulls getting him sweating in his outfit. His other large hand grips Connor’s hair keeping him rooted to the spot.

Soon Connor’s skin is gleaming along with his necklace and the noises he’s making in between kisses is desperate, soft, animal in nature. He wants Hank to rip the costume away, to pull his hair and do with him what he wants. He wants Hank inside him.

Hank's scent and the oily petrol tinted smell of the garage oddly spurring him on.

“Ngh~ _Hank_ , fuck me.”

“Is that a demand or a request?” Hank asks, his smile impish.

Connor pouts.

“Both.”

Hank nods and removes his hand from the suit but keeps ahold of Connor’s hair, pulling gently in just the way that Connor likes.

“I want you out of that suit, and straddling that bike with your ass out for me. But Connor, keep the boots on." Hank's voice is like silk and Connor immediately turns into goo.

He nods dumbly, watching Hank’s lips until he’s released to carry out Hank’s instructions. He peels out of the suit, leaving it on the bench and puts his boots back on. Good move on Hank’s part. The set is a little grimy.

Connor brushes his hand across Hank's chest on the way past, Hank follows, giving off the energy of someone who’s in charge, who knows what he wants and knows he’s going to get it. It’s intoxicating. Connor's knees feel weak just from watching him.

Connor swings a leg over the bike and scoots right back as far as he can go. Body arched, hips propped at a perfect height. His necklace dangles, catching the sunlight.

Hank just observes him for a moment and Connor swallows audibly, hot tension pooling in his gut. He aches. He wants Hank to touch him.

Hank moves behind him and Connor feels Hank's fingertips press at the back of his neck and drag the length of his spine.

Connor's body follows the movement, arching more under the touch, shivering, gooseflesh breaking out in the wake of Hank's warmth. Connor whines quietly, peering over his shoulder.

Hank's hands are on his hips then adjusting him so that he is perched on the edge at the very back of the seat. The hands then glide seamlessly to cup both cheeks and spread them.

Connor's arms almost give out holding him up enough to peer round. He wants to hunker down, cling to the bike and hold on for dear life already and they’ve barely begun.

A thumb presses and rubs at his hole and he feels the muscle twitch under it. He’d prepped with something reasonable to let Hank stretch him out. He wants to feel his body work to fit him in. Needs to feel it. He wants Hank’s big powerful body over him, pounding him into sloppy submission.

"Hank,” he whispers. “Need you.”

“Okay Sweetheart, okay.”

Hank lowers himself to his knees and Connor feels fingers pull at his hole, then the soft insistent pressure of Hank’s eager tongue inside him. He shakes, moans, melts, the world narrows to a startling bright and intense point.

All that matters is the electric sensation of Hank’s tongue in his ass and then Hank’s thick fingers opening him up more.

Two, then three, plunging inside him before that wriggling muscle is back and he clamps around it. He’s unaware of half the noises he is making as he sinks lower and lower onto the seat, legs shaking.

Hank has a fourth finger in him when he starts to sob, praising and pleading, rocking backwards. One of Hank’s hands grips his shoulder as the other opens him up, it’s rough and he can hear the slick frantic slide of Hank’s fingers.

in-out, in-out, the pleasure builds, his balls pull up tight. Hank is mumbling he realises. Filthy praise that stokes Connor’s already roaring fire.

By the time Hank is done finger fucking him almost into oblivion, he’s a wreck. Bent completely over the bike and crying into the leather. He’s on the edge and it’s almost painful.

Hank soothes him, shushing him and brushing tears away from his cheeks, further smudging smears of black mascara.

Hank rubs his back and leans round to kiss him, murmuring against his lips, “are you okay?”

Connor nods and touches his cheek, shifting his hips to draw attention to what he wants.

Hank gives his ass a little slap and gets into position. He slides in between Connor’s cheeks teasingly and Connor presses back chanting “yes, yes, yes” under his breath.

Hank holds his hip and guides the thick head of his cock to press against his sloppy hole.

He opens up beautifully and Hank sinks into him. Connor lifts his hips to get his fingers around the base of his cock because the stretch and the feeling of Hank filling up his insides is what tips him over the edge.

“Fuck! Oh fuck Hank.”

It’s intense and Hank shushes him again, one large hand curling gently over his throat.

Connor is shaking so hard he thinks his bones might be vibrating, and for a moment his eyes roll back into his head. He jolts, Hank’s ridiculous size ensuring that there is constant pressure on his prostate, lengthening his orgasm.

“Did you like that kitten? Coming on my fucking dick.” Hank emphasises his words by giving a sharp thrust, forcing himself deeper.

Connor jolts again at the sudden flare of pleasure. He pants, gasps for breath, he’s on the come down from the first orgasm but he’s still fired up, he steadies himself with both hands again.

“Yeah, Fucking give it to me baby.”

Hank gives a few more sharp thrusts pulling sharper cries from deep within Connor’s chest. He’s oversensitive and eager to see how many times he can come before he can’t support his own weight.

“Just like that, just like that-“

Hank gets a hard grip on his hip and shoulder, pulling Connor’s body backwards as he shoves his hips forwards. His thrusts are hard, quick and measured. Shallow but pushing deeper and deeper.

Connor is dimly aware once again of the racket he is making. Sobbing until his makeup runs in tracks down his cheeks, his boots scuff the floor and the bike groans under their efforts. Every shout drives Hank wild, makes him pound into him harder and faster.

His climax builds again but as it does Hank picks up on it and slows. Then he stops. Connor thumps his fist on the seat and humps back against him.

He glances back to see Hank sweating in his overalls, the garment peeled open, and his t-shirt riding up, just so that he can get his dick out.

Tendrils of silver hair are sticking to his forehead and his barrel chest rises and falls with great heaving breaths. Hank grins a somewhat youthful and untroubled grin and Connor almost slips from the bike. He loves this man. So much it hurts.

Hank fists his hands on his hips and leans back looking at Connor expectantly. Connor takes this as his cue to fuck himself on Hank’s dick. And he does, with gleeful desperation.

He needs to get that build up again. Wants to come so hard he permanently locks around Hank’s cock like a vice and never lets go.

His body undulates beautifully Hank pulling at his hips now and then and occasionally his hair. They lock eyes when Connor looks back and it’s animal, magnetic, he’s never been so intense about keeping someone’s attention. He wants Hank’s eyes on him always.

“Fuck Hank, got a good view huh? Bet I’m stretched so tight around that big fucking cock.”

Hank twitches inside him and Connor feels it, notices the way Hank’s gaze intensifies, the way his breathing changes.

“I love it Hank, I love it so fucking much. God.”

Hank stops him, and ever so carefully pulls out.

Connor is about to protest when Hank hauls him up into a kiss and guides him carefully off the bike. Connor lets himself be led, wanting to plaster himself all over Hank. Hank who lifts him into his arms bridal style and carries him to the car, setting him on the bonnet.

There’s a flurry of limbs as they get into position and Connor almost feels bad about smearing lubricant on the paintwork, but he needs Hank, needs him back inside him effective immediately.

Hank pulls Connor's hips to the edge and Connor relaxes back, the cool metal providing a nice contrast against the heated skin of his back.

He can feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his cock is achingly hard and almost matching the cherry red of the Pontiac. Hank slides home again and they both sigh in pleasure and relief.

“Shit Hank, yeah, get it, oh my god get it.”

“Fuck baby.”

Hank fucks him hard and steady, Connor stares up at him, jaw slack with pleasure, eyes full of lust and love. He touches himself, his hand rubbing messy and slick over his cock and then down over his balls.

The spike in sensation makes him whimper and tense spurring Hank to fuck him harder.

Connor presses his hands against Hank’s sweaty belly, fingers curling against his soft flesh.

Hank holds his hips tightly and Connor lets Hank move him how he pleases, because that’s how he likes it.

There’s the build up again, the rush of electricity that threatens to short out his body and brain. He arches, pleasure licking fire up his spine and Hank is instantly working to get him there.

“Come. Come on my fucking dick,” he growls.

Connor hurries to get a hand around his cock, frantically jerking himself to Hank’s rough rhythm.

“Yes, oh fuck yes.”

Connor cries out, the sound tearing its way out of him and his entire body trembles. His spend spatters his belly, chest, face and even the car.

He whimpers and locks eyes with Hank mouthing “i love you” in his blissed out delirium. Once he gets control of his brain and cognitive functions he keeps himself steady, biting his lip and watching Hank adoringly.

“You can come inside me baby. I want it.”

Hank groans low in his chest and his hips stutter, he presses deep and pulses his release into Connor.

“Yeah, that’s it, fuck.”

Hank leans down and kisses him senseless, it’s uncoordinated and messy but Connor can’t help but smile.

He relaxes back against the cool surface of the car and holds his thighs up as Hank pulls out allowing the camera to get a good shot. He can’t wait to get back to the hotel and have a nice hot soapy bath, hopefully with Hank in it.

\----

After cleaning up Connor becomes unusually clingy, spending a while just holding Hank while he sits perched on the bonnet of the Pontiac.

"You okay?" Hank asks, running his fingers soothingly through Connor's hair.

Connor nods rubbing his cheek against Hank's shoulder. "Is the car yours?"

"Yeah."

"... Let's hope we didn't corrode the paintwork."

Hank snorts. "It's okay, insurance covers it."

They both laugh.

"It's a beautiful car."

"Not as beautiful as you."

"I know."

Hank laughs again before falling into pensive quiet. "... I love you Connor. If it wasn't already damn obvious."

Connor holds him tighter and smiles. "I love you too Hank. More than you know."


End file.
